


Secrets To Keep

by Rionaa



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: All characters except Arthur Merlin Morgana and Uther are minor, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fifteen year old Arthur, Ghosts, Homophobic Language, M/M, Mild Peril, Morgana is the best character, Peril, Secret Tunnels, Uther Pendragon's A+ parenting, ghost merlin, heck yeah, slight morgwen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 19:16:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12941904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rionaa/pseuds/Rionaa
Summary: When Uther moves Arthur and Morgana into a castle in the middle of the Welsh countryside, Arthur is sure that there is nothing that can make this situation better. But then he discovers a hidden door and realises that perhaps, not everything is as awful as he thought.





	Secrets To Keep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pelydryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pelydryn/gifts).



> This is gifted to the wonderful [Pelydryn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Pelydryn/pseuds/Pelydryn) on her birthday. Happy birthday!
> 
> It is also dedicated to the rest of the people in the [Merlin chat](https://merlin-chat.livejournal.com/488.html) , in particular [Onasariel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onasariel/pseuds/Onasariel) and [Plutonia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plutonia/pseuds/Plutonia) for cheerleading and support!
> 
> Also thanks to my girlfriend for being great and proofreading even though she said she wasn't very good at it (love you babe)

Arthur sank onto the bed with a huff of irritation. It was a new mattress, still firm from the factory, not at all soft like his old mattress had been. It wasn’t even an old mattress, just over five years old, all the springs were still functional and the memory foam topper he had was perfectly depressed in the middle to fit his sleeping shape. But no. That was not good enough for Uther. Of course they all had to have new mattresses in their new house. At least Arthur got to keep his old bed frame. It was a family heirloom apparently. Of course, Uther hadn’t been exactly thrilled when the movers took away Arthur’s old mattress to reveal his stash of porn mags, but then again, what did he expect? Arthur was a fifteen year old boy at an all boys school, these publications were passed from student to student like items of clothing in a poor family. At any rate, Uther would be comparatively delighted with that revelation if he’d known that Arthur had no real taste for the content of the magazines. 

Arthur huffed again and rolled over on the firm mattress. It was barely three in the afternoon but he wanted to avoid having to direct the movers so pretending to sleep seemed like his best option. However, the new mattress was just not comfortable. 

At last, groaning in frustration, Arthur rolled off the bed and yanked the door open. It was a thick, wooden door, darkened with age, and the iron hinges creaked with the weight. Arthur rolled his eyes. Not only was the new house miles and miles from their old home and his friends, it was also apparently ancient and falling apart. He’d have to ask if the movers could do anything about it, or maybe ask Uther for a new door. 

Arthur headed left down the corridor, trying to remember which was the way back to the entrance hall. Here was the main staircase, it was down, two lefts, shortcut through the old ballroom (of course) then…

“Arthur?” The sound of heavy boots coming up the broad wooden staircase on the floor below.

Oh bollocks. That was his half sister, Morgana, doubtlessly looking for him to help her organise her bookshelf. Like he cared. Turning tail, he headed back the way he came, past his wide open bedroom door and down to the end of the corridor, where he pulled aside a floor length tapestry and ducked behind it to wait, leaning against the bare stone wall when – holy shit. Arthur grinned. This new house suddenly got a whole lot more interesting.

* * * * *  


Carefully running his hands down the sides of the tapestry so as to keep it from swinging and revealing his position, Arthur turned and peered down the darkened stone stairwell he’d just almost fallen down. What he had taken to be solid stone was in fact carefully concealed and camouflaged wood: a door, which had swung open with Arthur’s weight. Pulling his iPhone from his pocket, he switched the torch on to illuminate the narrow passage. The steps were steep and worn down in the middle almost to a U shape by use. 

Placing one hand on the cold stone wall, Arthur gingerly lowered one foot onto the first step. The centre was smooth but not slippery, so he continued downwards. He wondered if Uther had known the old castle had a secret passageway when he bought it. Somehow he doubted it. His father didn’t pay attention to things like that. He only cared that it was expensive, a status symbol! After all, not many people could say truthfully that they lived in a castle. This secret was just Arthur’s to keep. His heart beat faster with excitement. Imagine all the possibilities! Suddenly Arthur was no longer fifteen, he was five years old, building “secret” forts and castles, trying to start “secret” clubs with Morgana, despite her constant lack of interest. 

Suddenly the next step Arthur was reaching for gave a little wobble and he pitched forwards, his phone flying out of his grip and smashing against the stone wall, the light going out. Arthur flung his arms out in front of him in an attempt to stop his fall, but it was useless, he tumbled head over heels down the steep, spiral stairwell, crashing against the outer wall until he slid to a stop, head first and groaning. 

He pushed himself up into a sitting position with his left hand, feeling a bump on his head with his right. Yep, that was blood. Shit. How was he going to explain this? He scooted to the side until he could lean up against the cool stone wall. He closed his eyes against the pain. How far had he fallen? One floor? Maybe two? He must be in the cellar, judging by the almost pitch blackness. That was another thing. How was he going to get back up the stairs without a light? Crawl up them like a dog? How long would that take? Ugh. How could he have been so stupid? Too caught up in thinking about stupid childish thoughts to watch his footing, and now he was hurt at the bottom of a stairwell that no one else knew about, and his phone was broken. Great. This day could not get any worse.

Then suddenly he noticed that one patch of darkness didn’t seem to be quite as dark. No, there was a definite glow, that looked like a candle’s halo, and it was getting closer. Squinting his eyes, Arthur watched as a silhouette of a young man grew closer until a boy about his own age emerged from a tunnel in the blackness. He didn’t seem to notice Arthur until he gave a pointed cough. 

The boy turned with a slight squeak of surprise, and Arthur could see his face for the first time. He was thin, almost to the point of gauntness, with extremely prominent cheekbones and ears that stuck out almost comically to the sides of his head. His black hair hung over his face, but Arthur could still see his startlingly blue eyes as they peered at his with alarm, which quickly turned to concern.

“Are you alright?” The boy crouched down before him and reached a hand toward the cut on Arthur’s forehead.

Arthur swatted the hand away with irritation. “What are you doing here?”

The boy sat back on his haunches and frowned disapprovingly at Arthur. “I live here.”

“Well you can’t live here anymore. My father owns this castle now, you’ll have to find somewhere else to squat.” As he said this, he swept the boy’s body with his eyes. Good god, what was he wearing? Some kind of grey smock, a red scarf and a brown jacket that looked like it hadn’t seen the inside of a washing machine for years. The smell that must create – Arthur sniffed cautiously, but he found to his surprise that he couldn’t smell anything unusual, just the damp floor and walls. Even the candle the boy was carrying didn’t seem to be giving off the smell of candle smoke or burning wax. 

“Well excuse me, I’ve been here much longer than you have, I think I should get to stay here and you should leave.”

Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe this boy. “That’s not how it works. My father paid to live here, do you have any idea how much this place cost? No, I don’t suppose you do. Do you even have any idea of currency, or, or value?”

The boy stood up, looking hurt. Arthur felt a twinge of regret as he did so, but squashed it down. The boy shouldn’t be here, Arthur had every right to assert himself in this situation. 

“How far did you fall?”

“What?”

“I said, how far did you fall? You obviously took a tumble down the steps, are you injured? Do you need help getting back up?” The subtext was pretty clear, Arthur thought. ‘Can you go away and leave me alone?’

Arthur shook his head, then blinked away the stars that blinked before his eyes momentarily. “I’m fine.” He pushed himself up off the floor, then yelped as he put weight on his left foot.

The boy instantly darted towards him and guided him to sit on the second step, before kneeling and peering at Arthur’s foot. “I think it’s just sprained, not broken.”

Arthur groaned. “How am I going to get back up the stairs? I walked down at least four floors and fell another two.”

“I’ll help you. There are entrances to the stairwell on each floor, I’ll get you get back up to the ground floor.”

“Wait, how far are we underground?” Arthur questioned.

The boy grinned. “We’re in the lowest level of the cellars. You were a bit low in your estimation, there are four levels underground, and I’m guessing you didn’t start from the ground floor.”

Arthur blinked, momentarily speechless. “No, I started on the third floor.”

The boy blew out a cheek-full of air. “Wow. I’m impressed you didn’t kill yourself, falling down all those stairs!”

Arthur scowled. “Thanks a lot. Can you help me back up?”

“Sure. Ground floor, correct?”

Still scowling, Arthur nodded. The boy held out a hand and Arthur took it. The boy’s skin was surprisingly soft, and he was much stronger than Arthur was expecting. He pulled him to his feet with next to no effort, then slid one arm round Arthur’s waist to give him support. Arthur rested his arm over the boy’s narrow shoulders. 

“What’s your name? I can’t exactly call you ‘Boy’, now can I?”

The boy laughed. “It wouldn’t surprise me, you do seem like the type,” Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but the boy continued, “My name’s Merlin. What’s yours, ‘milord’?”

“Arthur Pendragon. How long have you been living in my father’s basement?”

“Ooh, ages.” Merlin smirked to himself at that. Arthur couldn’t see well in the half light provided by the candle, but Merlin’s face seemed to become almost otherworldly when he smiled, filled with an elven mischief. Hang on, where had that thought come from? Arthur shook his head and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

Merlin suddenly stopped and bent down to pick something up off the floor. He handed it to Arthur. It was his iPhone. The whole thing was bent slightly in half, the screen was cracked and pieces of it were missing. Even the back was badly dented. Even without properly examining it, Arthur knew that it was broken beyond all hope of repair. He hoped his father wouldn’t shout at him for it. Uther could fork out 25 million pounds for a huge castle but god forbid Arthur should need a new phone. 

With a sigh, Arthur slid the mangled phone into his pocket. With any luck he could buy a new one out of his own pocket and Uther would never know. Of course, Arthur’s pocket money was very slight, and Uther kept a close eye on his son’s bank accounts, but he was very busy with the whole moving malarkey, there was always a chance that he would overlook this.

“Why do you use candles for light? This isn’t the middle ages you know. Don’t you have a phone or something you could use instead?”

“The cellars are one of the oldest parts of this castle, and they weren’t updated along with the rest of it, so there’s not exactly any electrical ports or anything down here you know. Besides, I prefer candles, there’s something honest about them. Natural. It feels closer to our roots, like old magic.”

Okayyy. So not only was this kid squatting illegally in their castle, he was also, apparently, a total nut-job.

“Are you by yourself or is there anyone else down here with you?” Arthur questioned. Merlin’s face suddenly closed off. His eyes flashed dark, no longer the colour of a summer’s sky, but closer to cold steel or a storm tossed sea. “Well?” Arthur pressed, but Merlin’s jaw only tightened and he refused to say another word.

“This is the ground floor.” Merlin unwound his arm from Arthur’s waist and opened the thick wooden door set in a dent in the wall. Arthur stepped forward and pushed the fabric aside to reveal a red carpeted corridor and tall, faceted windows down one side. He turned to speak to Merlin, but the words died on his lips when he saw that the narrow stairwell was deserted, not even the glow of a candle revealing the other boy’s presence.

He set off down the corridor, toward the loud voices of the movers in the entrance hall, his sprained ankle forgotten.

* * * * *  


That night at supper, Uther sat at the head of the absurdly long oak dining table in the great dining room, his two children at either side. Morgana picked through the meal in front of her with distaste, then sat back in her chair, arms folded over her chest. “I can’t eat this.”

Uther sighed. “Yes you can, my dear, now stop it with all this vegetarian nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense, and I’m not even vegetarian, I’m vegan!”

“Alright then, just don’t eat the meat.”

“The vegetables are covered with butter, and even the bread has milk in it! I can’t eat it.”

“Then don’t.” Uther raised his nose pointedly, to signify that the conversation was over, and continued to eat. Morgana huffed and pushed her chair back, making a loud screeching sound as the heavy clawed feet scraped across the stone flagged floor. Her heavy combat boots clumped loudly as she stormed out of the dining room. Arthur slouched lower in his seat and shoved another mouthful of mashed potato into his mouth. “Sit up straight.” Uther commanded, without looking at him. Arthur sighed and forced his spine to straighten.

“Is everything moved in yet, Father?” He asked, after five minutes of silence.

“All the larger items such as furniture, yes. The first three anterooms off the entrance hall are still full of boxes, but the I persuaded the movers to return tomorrow and help us to further distribute our possessions.”

Arthur nodded silently and transferred another forkful of food to his mouth.

“Don’t take such huge bites,” Uther scolded, “and don’t move so mechanically, you’re a human being, not a machine.”

Arthur immediately hunched over and stuffed an extra mouthful in, chewing with his mouth open. Uther sighed in disappointment. “I know you aren’t happy about the move, but you will get used to it. Strategically, the new house couldn’t be better placed. It’s situated a long way from the nearest city, but there is a small village not too far away, with a train station that goes direct to London. And I’m sure it has shops and things as well.”

Arthur ignored him. He’d heard this speech about twenty times already, Uther’s attempts to persuade Arthur and Morgana to be more enthusiastic about the move.

“So did you settle into your room? I sent one of the movers up to find you earlier but he said you weren’t there.”

“I was exploring the castle.” Arthur replied sullenly.

Uther frowned. “If you want to get to know the house a bit better I can get you some floor plans. There’s no need to go gallivanting all around by yourself.”

Suddenly Arthur decided he wasn’t hungry any longer. He swallowed his last mouthful and pushed away his plate, still half full of food, and got up from the table. “I’m full,” he lied, “and I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

Uther sighed. “Very well. Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Night.” And Arthur left the dining room and headed upstairs.

He did not, however, go directly to his bedroom. He paused on the landing below, listening to the sound of plucked guitar strings coming from Morgana’s bedroom. He padded across the corridor and knocked on the door. There was a pause as the music stopped, then Morgana called “Go away.”

“It’s me.” Arthur called back.

“Oh.” Another pause, then the door opened and Morgana poked her head out. “What do you want?”

Arthur hesitated. He wanted to make sure that she was okay; she had left more behind than he had. Her half sister on her mother’s side, Morgause, her friends, and her girlfriend, Gwen. But he knew that she wouldn’t respond well to being ‘checked on’. So instead he said “I was wondering if you knew anything about the history of the castle.”

Instantly, she brightened. “Yes! As soon as father told us where we were moving to, I found every book I could find on the subject.” 

Arthur nodded, encouraging her to continue as she beckoned him inside her room and closed the door. 

“It’s actually suspected to be one of the oldest castles in the country!” She said, with obvious excitement, “Though of course it wasn’t originally a castle, more of a wooden hall, so most of the current castle is much more modern. But the history of the place is supposed to date from as early as the fourth or fifth century. Of course, no one knows exactly so it’s kind of up for interpretation, but it’s still rather interesting!

“There has also been a lot of folklore circulating the castle for as long as anyone can find records of it, stuff like sorcery and witchcraft, murders and other illicit dealings, wars fought by the lords who lived here, and there’s supposed to be ghosts! Oh, the descriptions of the hauntings are probably the most detailed, the last people who lived here moved away because of the supposed ghosts, though of course that was over a hundred years ago.” 

Arthur listened, almost spellbound as she talked. He hadn’t seen her look so animated since Uther had first announced that they would be moving. At one point, she got up, still talking, and fetched a large piece of folded paper. She spread it out over the floor and Arthur saw that it was a map of the castle, each floor mapped out by room. 

Then he frowned. “This is inaccurate.” Where was the stone stairwell he had found?

She stopped mid-sentence. “What do you mean?”

“Not everything is on here.”

“What’s missing?”

He paused. If he told her the truth, he’d also have to tell the truth about Merlin, and a strange feeling told him not to, to protect the peculiar boy with the bright blue eyes and cheekbones that could cut glass. 

“I thought there was another floor.” 

She scanned the map appraisingly. “No, I think this is correct. What made you think that?”

He shook his head. “I- I don’t know. I must have miscounted.”

She nodded. “You’re tired, it’s been a long day. You should go to bed.” She reached over and tousled his shaggy blond hair. He leaned away, protesting, but still grinning.

“Alright. But do you think I could borrow one of your books on the castle? I’d like to know more about the folklore you mentioned.”

“Of course!” She stood and selected a book off her shelf. “This one probably has the most detail. Let me know if you want to know more, though, that barely scratches the surface! This is such a fascinating place...”

Arthur took the book and headed up the stairs to his bedroom.

* * * * *  


Arthur read until the sunrise began to turn the sky outside his window the palest pink. He’d never had much appreciation for history, but this was nothing like the history books school made him read. Instead, it was full of tales of heroism and magic, stories from a mythology almost forgotten. Wars won, knights lost, dragons and ghosts and magic! Arthur was fascinated. 

At last, he reached the last page and reached out to place the book on his night stand. As he did so, he noticed his iPhone sitting beside the book. He had thrown it there hastily the day before when he returned from the cellar, intending to deal with it the next day. However, when he picked it up to examine it, the screen was intact. The body of the phone was ramrod straight, the back undented. 

He frowned at it. Surely he hadn’t imagined the secret passage, his tumble down several storeys, and Merlin, the boy in the cellar? Yet Morgana’s map had contained no evidence of the stairwell, here his phone was unbroken, and now that he came to think of it, his ankle and head were giving him no pain whatsoever. Then why did he suddenly feel so upset about it? 

Without thinking, he swung his legs out of bed. Grabbing his phone, he crept out of his room and down to the end of the corridor. Pulling aside the tapestry and pushing open the door, he revealed once more, a pitch black stairwell. Switching his phone light on again, he began to descend. This time, he was more careful of his footing, and after a while when he came upon the loose step, he didn’t fall. 

The deeper he went, the colder it became, and Arthur began to regret his decision to sleep in just his boxers. He could feel an intense chill rising up from the cold stone all around and below him. At last he arrived at the last step and, shivering, stepped down onto the rough hewn floor of the lowest cellar. He shone the torch light around, realising that he had no idea how to find his way around down here. 

Beginning to regret his decision to come back down here, he turned and prepared himself to make the climb back up the spiral steps, when suddenly a hand landed on his shoulder. Arthur let out a loud, high pitched squeak of terror. He managed to keep his grip on his phone and spun around, fist clenched and ready to defend himself.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Merlin backed away rapidly, holding both hands up in front of himself defensively.

“Merlin?” Arthur dropped his clenched fist and held his phone closer to the other boy to confirm.

“Sorry!” Merlin said again.

“Bloody hell, what are you doing?”

“Sorry, I just, you came down to see me, didn’t you?”

“Well yes, I suppose, I came down to apologise. But I don’t think I will now, not now that you’ve scared me half to death!”

Merlin blinked. “Apologise? What for?”

“For upsetting you earlier. I asked something that I guess I shouldn’t have, and I felt bad. But I guess we’re even now.”

“Right,” Merlin nodded, “so now you’re what, just gonna go back up seven flights of stairs for thirty seconds of conversation?” He raised an eyebrow sceptically.

“Well, no, I...” Arthur hesitated, “I also wanted to know if, if you’ve been living here for so long, you know anything about the ghosts that are supposed to live here?” 

Merlin frowned. “Ghosts? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a ghost. Why, what have you heard?”

“Well, supposedly there was a ghost, and people have been writing about it here for centuries. It’s actually the reason why the last people here moved away.”

Merlin was no longer frowning, but grinning. “Oh, that wasn’t a ghost! That was me!”

Arthur was the one frowning now. “No, Merlin,” he said, shaking his head, “The last people moved out more than a hundred years ago.”

Merlin’s face fell. “Oh...” he stammered, “b-but I thought... no, I must be thinking of someone else.” he said, decisively. 

“Yeah...” Arthur agreed, doubtfully, “How did you know I was here anyway?”

“I was already in the room when you came down.” Merlin replied.

“No you weren’t. I shone the light all around the room, and you weren’t here. And where’s your candle? You can’t have found your way here in the dark. And why weren’t you asleep? It’s the middle of the night.”

“Is it? It all looks the same down here.” Merlin stated, matter-of-factly.

Arthur supposed he was right. “Okay but what’s with that outfit? You look like you’ve just stepped out of the sixth century.”

Merlin looked offended at that. “Hey! There’s nothing wrong with my clothes. Anyway, you can’t speak, you’re barely wearing anything at all!”

Arthur glared at him. “That’s because I was asleep. You’ve got no excuse.”

Merlin scowled. “Actually, I have. But anyway, if you’ve just come down here to insult me you can leave.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “Merlin, wait-”

“No, just go away, you arrogant prat.” And Merlin turned and disappeared down a pitch black passageway.

* * * * *  


Arthur’s phone ran out of battery halfway up the stairs, so he had to make the rest of his journey by feeling his way along the curved walls in the pitch blackness. At last he came to what he guessed was the doorway back to his corridor. Pulling open the door, he was alarmed to see the corridor flooded with light from the tall windows. He made his way back to his room and looked at the clock on his bedside table. 

He was alarmed to see that it was one minute to eight – had he really been down in the cellar for three and a half hours? His conversation with Merlin had only taken a few minutes, and climbing the stairs up and down had definitely not taken that long. Had he hit his head again and got amnesia? Reaching up he found no bumps or tenderness, so that ruled that idea out. 

Suddenly his alarm clock began beeping shrilly, and he reached out a hand to smack the off button. Oh, but his bed looked so appealing… He hadn’t gotten any sleep at all last night… Despite the uncomfortably firm new mattress, he climbed under the covers and was asleep within seconds.

* * * * *  


Unfortunately, he only got an hour and thirty three minutes of sleep before he was rudely awoken by Uther standing over him, clutching the blankets, his face a picture of fury. 

“Arthur!”

“Whuu?” Arthur blinked blearily, trying to keep his eyes open.

“What are you doing in bed? You overslept your alarm by an hour and a half, and there is much to be done in the house!”

“I must’ve… forgotten to set my alarm last night.”

“You most certainly did not. I heard it go off myself, and I heard you switch it off as well.”

Arthur froze. Did that mean Uther had heard him coming and going from the stairwell? But his father made no mention of it.

“I guess I just didn’t sleep well last night, what with being in a new bed, in a new home.”

Uther huffed. “Well don’t do it again. Now come, you’re needed downstairs. You have to tell the movers where you want your items placing.”

Arthur sighed and sat up, pushing his hair back off his face and squinting as Uther drew back the curtains, letting the sunlight flood in. He mentally cursed his decision to choose a bedroom facing East. 

“I expect you downstairs in five minutes.” Uther barked as he left the room, closing the door with an abrupt bang.

* * * * *  


The morning was about as fun as Arthur had expected. The movers were more than a little put out at the addition to their usual workload, though Arthur didn’t see why they should be, as Uther was undoubtedly paying them enough to more than cover the wage they would have gotten from the day’s work they were missing. Arthur joined his father and Morgana in guiding the movers to rooms with book cases, tables, chairs, bed frames and boxes. Uther was wielding a floor plan marked with designated room functions, but Arthur knew that barely a quarter of the rooms were going to be in use, and that was a stretch with all the furniture they owned. After all, a castle with thirty possible bedrooms wasn’t exactly easy to fill.

Lunch went much the same as dinner had the night before. Uther, still seeming incapable of understanding, or even attempting to understand Morgana’s decision to be vegan, had ordered gourmet sandwiches made with brioche bread and a variety of European style meats and cheeses. Morgana once again left the table in a huff, complaining about how she “can’t even go to the kitchen to get some proper food” since the kitchen was empty and unstaffed due to the move. Uther just sat calmly and ate his meal throughout all of this, and Arthur sank down in his seat to avoid being accused of complicity. In truth, he found the sandwiches rather tasteless, despite being prepared by a real French chef in London, presumably due to the distance it had been transported.

After lunch, he was pleasantly surprised when Uther announced that he would be able to oversee the rest of the placement without Arthur or Morgana. “You go and unpack your belongings in your rooms. And don’t come down before six o’clock, you’ll only get in the way of the workers.”

Arthur almost argued with him, why would he only be getting in the way now, after having spent the morning directing the workers as well as his father? But he decided against it and went upstairs. 

However, instead of going straight to his room to unpack boxes, he found himself in front of the tapestry once again. He shook his head in amused exasperation at himself, but opened the door and stepped into the darkness. He decided to go down and try apologising to Merlin once again. This time he resolved not to lose his temper. He wanted to get to know the boy properly, he realised. He didn’t have any friends at all nearby. 

Of course, once school started up again he would be back at boarding school, but it wasn’t the same as having friends he could hang out with at home. God he missed his friends, even Gwen, Morgana’s girlfriend, and her brother Elyan. Both of them had grown up alongside Arthur and Morgana, as their father worked in Uther’s household, so being suddenly ripped away from the pair was like being removing a tree from the spot where it had been growing all its life.

Arthur wondered if part of the reason for the move was Uther’s discovery of Gwen and Morgana’s relationship. Uther wanted Morgana to marry into another rich family, so as to create good business connections for him, and to raise the esteem of the family. But that would be impossible if Morgana were to date a woman (Uther refused to accept the possibility of marriage between two women or two men), and especially if that woman was in the working class. And that was without bearing in mind Gwen’s mixed racial heritage. 

Arthur ground his teeth just thinking about Uther’s seemingly endless list of prejudices. He knew that all of his father’s hopes were now resting on Arthur’s shoulders, both for business and reputation. What would Uther do if he were to discover that not only Morgana, but both of his children would never agree to marry someone of the opposite gender?

Almost without realising, Arthur reached the bottom of the steps. He had been too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice the approach of the floor, and jolted back to the present as he found both feet flat on the ground. 

“Merlin?” he called. There was no reply. The entrance to the tunnels from which Merlin always appeared yawned dark and menacing. There was no reply, and Merlin didn’t appear as Arthur had been expecting. Pointing his torch beam down the tunnel with apprehension, Arthur couldn’t make out how far it went, but the cavern itself seemed to twist, the floor uneven and filled with dips and bends where water had dripped and run in rivulets along the floor. 

Ducking his head, Arthur slowly entered, peering around cautiously. The cavern ceiling was even more uneven than then floor, some areas as low as four feet high, forcing Arthur to stoop. Others were much more spacious. Vertical shafts just wide enough for a person to fit in were placed at seemingly random intervals. Air vents, Arthur supposed, or connections to the upper levels of the cellar. As he continued down the tunnel, the shafts became less regular until they stopped altogether, and he guessed that he was now well out from under the castle. 

However, entrances to small chambers or more tunnels still appeared. Arthur shone his light down a few of them, but they were just as uneven and unmarked as the one he was travelling down. Some seemed to double back and go back towards the castle, some were perpendicular to this tunnel. Some sloped up or down. Down a few came the sound of trickling or running water, but apart from that, the entire tunnel system was as silent as the grave. 

Arthur began to shiver, partly from cold, partly from fear and excitement. He had never been this alone. All the adventures he had ever had were with friends, and the thrill of danger that came from being so far underground, in a maze of unfamiliar tunnels and no one to know where he was or to come looking for him, was a new experience.

After travelling down the passageway for about twenty minutes with no change, Arthur was suddenly met with a dead end. Two tunnels led off to the left and right, perpendicular to the tunnel leading back to the castle. Arthur looked both ways, debating the merits of each, and wondering if he should turn back. ‘If I start with a right, then a left, then a right and carry on like that, I’ll be easily able to remember the way back!’ So he set off to the right, running a hand along the wall as he went.

He came to a crossroads which was at a steep slant, and took the left, which sloped steeply downwards before levelling out into a much flatter tunnel than the one he had just left. The walls, instead of being roughly hewn out of the rock, were shaped more precisely in a square shape approximately five and a half feet high. Arthur stooped over, looking for a place to turn right, preferably with a higher ceiling. A few minutes further down he was in luck, as a tunnel opened up into a ceiling of about two metres. Arthur continued taking alternating lefts and rights, mentally keeping count of each.

By the time he had taken nine lefts and ten rights, he began to notice a change in the rock type. Now the occasional rivulets running down the walls were more visible due to the white sediment they left behind, and Arthur could see the beginnings of stalagmites on the floor and stalactites on the ceiling, indicating the presence of limestone. He shone his torch over an especially impressive pair which almost met in the middle, and snapped a photograph. If he ever told Morgana about these tunnels he would show it to her. He was sure she would be fascinated.

The next opening on the left was a spacious cavern with a high, almost domed ceiling, and another black doorway on the other side, leading to a new tunnel. Stepping inside, Arthur straightened and shone his torch around the room. The walls were smooth, with regularly placed niches all around. Arthur counted thirteen, of which ten were empty. The remaining three each had small bundles of cloth. 

Arthur stepped to the nearest one and picked up the bundle. The fabric felt ancient, almost fragmenting in his hand. Arthur lifted one corner to reveal the contents. The small pendant inside seemed to be made of bronze. Arthur traced the spiral pattern with one finger, feeling awe and reverence blossom inside him. This tiny thing was obviously centuries old, possibly millennia. Carefully, he wrapped it back in the cloth and placed it back in the niche. 

Moving on to the next bundle with excited anticipation, Arthur opened it to reveal a tiny stone figurine, only slightly larger than the pendant. It was humanoid, but the face was worn away with time. 

Placing it back in the niche, Arthur moved on to the next, and largest bundle. On closer inspection, he saw that it was not a bundle, but rather a cover placed over what looked to be a pot. This piece of fabric was more delicate than the last two, so Arthur was careful not to damage it as he lifted it to inspect the pot.

But it wasn’t a pot. Arthur jumped back with a scream that reverberated around the domed room and travelled down the tunnels, echoing back at him, seeming to create an army of horrified voices. Arthur stared at the human skull that seemed to be staring right back at him from dark, hollow eye sockets. The removal of the cloth disturbed the skull and it wobbled in place before toppling off the shelf as though launching itself at Arthur.

Arthur backed away quickly, his heart seeming to be beating out of his chest. His foot met with some slight resistance, then a horrible crunching sound. Looking down at where he had just stepped, Arthur screamed again as he saw the shattered ribcage his foot had gone through, tangled tibias and fibulae, crushed vertebrae, scattered finger and toe bones, but where the skull should have been there was nothing, and Arthur knew that the skull he had just disturbed belonged to this skeleton, and that someone, ages past had purposefully separated the head from the body. 

That was all Arthur needed. He turned tail and ran from the room, not knowing if it he left through the door he came in or the door on the other side.

Arthur sprinted through the dark tunnels, his heartbeat loud in his ears, his breathing fast and frantic. For a moment he imagined that the sound of his running feet slapping against the damp tunnel floor echoing from every side was the sound of a hundred people in hot pursuit, increasing his panic, and he made blind turns, running down new and unfamiliar passageways until he came to an abrupt halt in front of an underground stream that flowed through a deep channel carved across the tunnel. The water was deep, fast flowing and ice cold, and Arthur knew that he couldn’t hope to cross it or he would be swept away in the freezing current and drowned as the river flowed back underground. 

He turned and pointed the beam of his torch back down the tunnel he had come from. He was met with pitch blackness and long shadows of the rough edges of rock. His phone screen switched on with a notification of low battery. 

Arthur’s breathing, already rapid from exertion and fear, began to grow shorter and shallower as he began to panic properly. He was going to die underground, lost and alone, in the dark with only himself to blame. His knees began to shake and he backed up against the wall and sank to the floor. He was trembling all over now, and his face was wet with frightened tears. His breath hitched and he let out a gasping sob.

“Arthur?”

Arthur jumped and turned the torch beam on the owner of the voice. It was Merlin. Of course it was.

“Merlin!” Arthur’s face lit up with relief and he pushed himself away from the wall and onto his feet. The other boy stepped right in front of him and raised a hand to brush away the tears from Arthur’s cheek. Arthur’s face flushed hot with embarrassment. 

“How did you find me?”

Merlin shrugged, his hand still cupping Arthur’s cheek. “I’ve been following you for a while now. I didn’t want you to know so I kept my distance. I lost you for a while when you took off like that, but I managed to find you by the sound of your footsteps. Sound travels down here, if you know how to follow it and have a keen ear.”

“Thank you for finding me!” Arthur didn’t quite mean to, but he wrapped Merlin in a tight hug. The other boy froze, seeming to be unsure of how to react, but then he relaxed and wrapped him arms around Arthur in a comforting embrace. He held on and didn’t let go until Arthur wriggled to escape.

“Um,” Merlin looked away, scratching the back of his neck and looking slightly awkward, “so do you want me to take you back to the castle?”

“Yes, please!” Arthur nodded enthusiastically. 

“Alright. You know, you managed to get quite impressively lost, we’re almost two miles from the castle above ground, in the tunnels it’s closer to four.”

“Oh...” Arthur gulped.

“Don’t worry though!” Merlin’s smile was blinding, full of encouragement, “I’m not lost! I know exactly where we are and how to get you home.”

“How can you possibly know it so well?” Arthur asked, sceptically, “There’s so much of it!”

“Well, I’ve had a long time to learn my way around, and not much else to do,” Merlin replied, “Come on, let’s go.” and he turned tail and headed back down the corridor, and Arthur hurried after him, anxious not to become separated.

Arthur’s phone battery died after about ten minutes. “Merlin!” he squeaked, terrified, freezing in place in the pitch blackness.

Instantly, Merlin’s voice spoke in his ear. “Don’t worry, I’m right here.” A soft hand slipped into Arthur’s and squeezed reassuringly. Arthur gripped it tightly.

“But how will you find our way in the dark?”

“I know the tunnels just as well in the dark as the light. I don’t have an infinite supply of candles you know!”

“But what if there’s another river, or a pitfall or something?”

Merlin sighed, but it was more fond than frustrated. “Didn’t I just say that I know the tunnels? Do you never listen, clotpole?”

Arthur snorted with laughter, despite himself. “What did you just call me?”

“A clotpole!” Merlin’s voice was full of mirth.

“What’s a clotpole?”

“You are! Gosh, you really don’t listen, do you?”

Arthur couldn’t help himself. He had to laugh.

* * * * *  


That was something that Merlin seemed to be good at: making Arthur laugh. It took an hour and a half to get back to the castle in the dark. It would have taken less time but Arthur’s footing wasn’t as sure in the dark as Merlin’s, and he tripped and fell several times, and walked slowly enough that Merlin began to grow politely exasperated. The two boys laughed and talked as though they had known each other forever, and as though they hadn’t had two rocky starts already. 

Merlin’s hand never left Arthur’s, though Arthur gripped it tight like a lifeline and was sure it must hurt at times. Merlin was right about knowing the tunnels. He never once made a wrong turn, and always remembered to tell Arthur when to duck or step over an obstacle.

At last, Merlin led Arthur into an open chamber, saying “watch your head”, and let go of his hand. Arthur made a frightened little squeak, but Merlin just chuckled. “We’re here. This is the cellar. We’re right in front of the steps. You’re on your own now.”

Arthur let out another confused little sound. “Can’t you come with me? At least to my bedroom corridor?”

“No.” Merlin’s voice was final.

Arthur nodded, then, realising that Merlin couldn’t see him, said out loud, “Alright. I’ll see you again though, won’t I?”

“I expect so,” Merlin said, “if you’re brave enough to come back down to the cellar after today!”

“Hey!” Arthur reached out to give Merlin a playful shove based on where he heard his voice, but his hand met thin air. He swept his hand around, trying to find the boy, but found nothing. “Merlin?” Silence. Suddenly Arthur shivered. He had been becoming more used to the darkness and less afraid of the underground tunnels than he had been, but now the dread was beginning to seep back in. He felt around until he came upon the bottom step, and began to make his way up.

* * * * *  


When at last he reached his own corridor, he was alarmed to see that it was dark outside. He rushed into his bedroom to check the time, but stopped short when he came face to face with his father, who was sat on Arthur’s bed. Uther’s face was stony, his eyes ablaze as Arthur appeared in the doorway.

“And what time do you call this?” Uther boomed.

“Uh...” Arthur glanced around quickly for the clock, but it was facing away from him.

“It is after ten o’clock,” Uther informed him, glowering down at Arthur, “I have been worried sick, Morgana is distraught, I have had the police out, we thought you were missing or kidnapped-”

‘Christ’, thought Arthur, ‘the police? Really?’ “I’m sorry father, I got lost exploring.” Well, it wasn’t a lie, at least.

That was apparently quite the wrong thing to say, however. “What have I told you about exploring?” Uther roared, furious, “You should not go ‘exploring’ in the new house until you are well acquainted with the proper maps and charts!”

“But then where’s the fun?” Arthur was shouting now as well, “You moved us here even though neither me or Morgana wanted to come, you moved us away from out home, our friends, our real family.” he spat.

“I did what was best for you!” Uther shouted, spittle flying. “Your sister is a disgusting dyke, and that bitch Gwen was a bad influence on the both of you. Her brother was no better, filling your head with all sorts of nonsense about dragons and magic, namby pamby fairy stuff that’s of no real value! With any luck he’d have turned you into a fag as well as your sister, and then where would I be? No children, that’s where! So don’t you dare, ever question my decision to move us here again. Do you hear me?”

Arthur nodded, dumbly, backing away until his back hit the closed door. Uther stopped to catch his breath for a moment, then held out his hand, eyes flashing. “Give me your phone. You’re grounded. Make sure you keep to all your timetables strictly from now on. And if I catch you disobeying me again, the consequences will be even more severe.” 

Arthur handed his phone over wordlessly, then moved out of the way as Uther opened the door and strode down the hall. Arthur poked his head out of his bedroom door and saw Morgana standing frozen at the top of the stairs as Uther pushed past her. She and Arthur’s eyes met. She looked devastated. How much of that had she heard? Arthur made as though to say something, but she narrowed her eyes at him and took off down the stairs. He heard her bedroom door slam closed a moment later. He wasn’t sure if he imagined the sound of her sobs.

* * * * *  


Despite how little sleep he had gotten in the past few days, Arthur didn’t fall asleep easily that night, and woke early. It was more than an hour until his alarm, but realising that he wouldn’t be able to fall back into sleep, he got out of bed and dressed. He dug through one of the boxes full of his possessions until he found a functional torch. He couldn’t find any spare batteries, but he took the back off the remote for his bedroom TV and removed the batteries. He would not be stuck in the dark this time! He shoved the torch and batteries into his pocket, then after a moment’s thought, his alarm clock as well. He wouldn’t allow time to get away from him and get into more trouble either.

As he stepped into the secret stairwell, a cold breeze blew up from the distant cellars, making the hairs on his arms stand up. With a shiver, Arthur decided to give the cellar a miss for now, not eager to repeat the experiences of yesterday. He decided to explore up the stairs instead of down. He was sure he wouldn’t find Merlin, or any other people living illegally in his house, so perhaps now he could explore in peace.

He climbed past two more concealed entrances until the spiral stairs ended abruptly in a rough stone wall. Reaching out to where he expected to find a smooth, varnished surface, Arthur’s fingers instead felt cold iron bars. Shining the light of his torch on the door, he found a small barred window in a think oak door. The door itself was riddled with wood worm and the thick iron hinges were heavily oxidised. He ran his fingers over the metal and they came away coated with particles of dark orange rust. He examined the door for a handle of some kind, but finding none, decided that the door must be pushed instead. 

Setting his shoulder against the side away from the hinges, he gave a sharp shove, expecting little movement due to the weight of the door and the rusted hinges. However, the door shifted slightly, and with a few more shoves, he managed to get it open enough to allow him to slip through. What he found on the other side was enough to draw a gasp from his lips.

It was a circular room with a ceiling shaped like an inverted cone, and Arthur guessed he must be right at the very top of one of the towers at the corners of the castle. Shining the beam of his torch around the room, he saw slit windows almost closed with dried bird droppings and accumulated dust. 

Curious, he approached one and poked at the sediment. It crumbled and fell away almost all at once, allowing a thin crack of daylight to enter, along with a sudden blast of fresh air. Arthur was sure that this room hadn’t had fresh air in a very long time. Peering out of the window, Arthur could see the countryside around the castle, nothing but fields and fields as far as the eye could see. Not even a farmhouse in sight, absolutely deserted. Arthur had rarely felt so alone or abandoned.

Scowling, he turned away and went to one of the other windows. Poking away the sediment, he revealed much the same view from this one. Going round the room, he gradually freed each of the windows until the room was illuminated by thin cracks of light from all around. 

At last, Arthur stood in the centre of the room, lit by all the windows at once. Looking around once again, he was able to see more clearly the piles of clutter, boxes, and chests all around the room, and the thick layer of dust over everything: the floor, the boxes themselves, the rough edges of the stones sticking out of the walls. Looking down, he could see his own footprints documenting his trip around the windows. 

Arthur spotted a bundle of fabric lying haphazardly on top of one of the chests. Picking it up, he determined that it had most likely once been a jacket, but it was now so moth-eaten and faded it was hard to see it ever being worn again. He shook it out and began to cough from the cloud of dust that instantly arose. Pulling the collar of his shirt up over his nose, he gave the nearest crate an experimental swipe with the jacket. A huge strip of the dust peeled away, revealing the smooth wood underneath: cherry, if Arthur was not mistaken. 

Scrubbing harder this time, Arthur carefully pushed the remainder of the dust off, satisfied by how the clumps seemed to stick together a they floated to the floor. Pleased with how effective this method seemed to be, he set to work sweeping the dust off the rest of the boxes. He attempted to make a pile of dust in the corner but most of the dust seemed to want to stick to the jacket, so he did the best he could with that. 

At last, he balled the jacket up around the sizeable ball of dust and examined his handiwork. All the boxes were largely free of dust, but the air was full of visible floating particles of dust. Removing the collar over his mouth and nose, he immediately started coughing again. Pulling out his alarm clock, Arthur was surprised to see that he had been up here for almost an hour, his alarm was about to go off. Deciding to go down to his room and begin to unpack his boxes, he left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

* * * * *  


Arthur expected to be under strict scrutiny from his father that morning, but Uther was preoccupied with organising papers in his office. After hovering uncertainly outside Uther’s office door for ten minutes, his father closed the door with a barked “Go help your sister unpacking.”

Morgana was not unpacking, she was on the phone to Gwen, and from the sounds of it, they were having an argument. Arthur decided not to interrupt. Instead, he made his way to the secret doorway and headed down to the cellar. The loose step was becoming familiar now, and Arthur stepped over it with ease. When he reached the bottom, he was surprised to find Merlin already there, apparently waiting for him. 

“Arthur!” Merlin beamed at him. Arthur smiled back, a little confused by the boy’s eagerness to see him.

“Hi Merlin! Uh, how are you doing?”

“Great!” Merlin grinned, bouncing up on his toes, seemingly brimming with excitement and energy. “How about you?”

“Yeah I’m okay. I got in big trouble last night though...”

Merlin’s smile fell off his face, replaced with concern and sympathy. The boy was extremely easy to read, Arthur thought, he made no effort to hide his emotions whatsoever. An open book.

“Why? What happened? Are you alright?”

“Yeah I’m fine, it’s just I got back to my room really late, my dad was furious. He said he was worried that I was lost or kidnapped or something, but really I think he just didn’t want his reputation to be damaged. I’m grounded apparently, as if I even had any friends I could go and see or leave the castle to do anything fun.”

Merlin looked hurt for a second. “I’m your friend!”

Arthur smiled at that. “Yeah okay, but I don’t have to leave the castle to see you, and my dad doesn’t know about you. And that’s the way it’s going to stay.”

Merlin nodded. Arthur thought back to the tower room he had found earlier.

“Hey Merlin, have you ever been in the actual castle?”

Merlin shook his head. “Not for a long, long time.”

“But you have been inside? How could you live in the tunnels with a perfect route to the castle, but never go inside? It’s not like anyone else has been here for years!”

“I guess I just didn’t want to.” Merlin shrugged. “I have been inside, yes. But not for ages.”

Arthur told Merlin about the tower room he had found that morning. Merlin frowned. “That must be new, I don’t think it was there the last time I was in the castle.”

Arthur laughed. “Merlin, the tower is ancient. I must have been the first person to go in that room for over a hundred years, at least.”

Merlin looked startled, then shook his head slightly. “I must be misremembering.”

Arthur nodded, but gave him a strange look.

Ignoring this, Merlin asked more questions about the castle, which Arthur answered as best he could, having only seen a small part of it. How big was the ballroom? Arthur didn’t know. How many sleeping chambers were there? Twenty seven, thirty if you transformed three of the intended study rooms. How tall were the towers? Arthur didn’t know, but he did know that the one he had been in was pretty damn tall.

“What do you know about the castle?” Arthur finally asked.

Merlin hesitated. “I don’t know much about the castle as it is now, but I know loads about the castle’s history! Did you know that the original building was made of wood?”

Arthur nodded. “It was a hall, rather than a castle though, wasn’t it?”

“Yes that’s right, though most of the castle now is what used to be the village surrounding the hall. About twenty or so small wooden huts, completely in the middle of nowhere! At least, that’s what they think. The historians.” That last part seemed to have been added hastily, as though Merlin hadn’t meant it.

“Really?” Arthur hadn’t known that. “Do you know how old these tunnels are?”

Merlin nodded excitedly. “Yes! The oldest parts of it are probably about as old as the original hall. Maybe even older! They were originally a tin mine. Did you know that Britain used to be famous for tin? That’s why the Romans came. Then when the castle was built the tunnels were a means to escape from invasion, as the inhabitants would know their way around and where to hide, or at least a few would, and the invaders would get lost down here. There are only two ways in or out: the one into the castle itself, and one in the village. The rest of the passageways lead to each other or dead ends. There are a few traps such as pitfalls or rivers as well, but not too many.”

Arthur was beginning to feel a little sick thinking about his adventure yesterday. If Merlin hadn’t come to his rescue, what would have become of him? “How long are the tunnels?” he asked.

“All in all, there’s about forty miles of passageways,” Merlin said, oblivious to Arthur’s slight discomfort, “They go in all directions, one is a straight line that goes way past the village and ends in a sheer drop of twenty feet. High enough to injure and trap, but not high enough to kill.” He seemed almost proud of this information, but Arthur felt ill.

“How do you know all of this?”

“I told you, I-”

“How long have you been down here, Merlin?”

Merlin paused. “I don’t know. A long time.”

Long enough to learn all of the tunnels by heart, in the dark? All forty miles of it? And yet he never went into the castle, and he thought the towers were new. Arthur swallowed. Who was this boy?

* * * * *  


When he emerged from behind the tapestry, Arthur could hear Morgana’s loud rock music coming from her room. So she was off the phone with Gwen, and by the sounds of it, the conversation hadn’t ended well. Arthur decided to go and talk to his sister. He was slightly startled by this decision. He wasn’t usually so proactive when it came to his relationship with Morgana. But he also knew that she was finding the move much more difficult than he was. She had left much more behind, and she didn’t have the discoveries that he did about the castle.

Her music was so loud that she didn’t hear his knock at first. He knocked again, harder, and she responded by turning the music up louder, and a shouted “Go away!” Her voice was thick, like she’d been crying. Arthur knocked again and this time she opened the door. “What do you want?” Her eyes were red, but her thick eyeliner wasn’t smudged at all.

“I wanted to know more about the castle.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Look at you being all curious and wanting to know stuff. Have you really finished the book I lent you?” She regarded him sceptically when he nodded, then just sighed and opened the door wider to let him in. “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know about the towers. Are they newer than most of the castle?”

She frowned. “I don’t think so. I think they were built at the same time as the rest of the castle, in the thirteenth century.”

Arthur nodded. Why had Merlin not known that? Surely he must have seen the castle from the outside. Unless he had been born in the tunnels he must have known about the towers.

“Unfortunately, the towers seem to be mostly decorative,” Morgana continued, “No one knows how to get into any of them, there are no stairs that anyone can find.”

Arthur frowned. “That doesn’t sound very efficient. Why would they build the towers if they weren’t going to use them? I don’t think that was what they did in the thirteenth century, was it?”

“Well no, and in fact there are plans that show rooms in each of the towers, but none of the maps seem to show any way in or out, and there are no trap doors, so it’s a mystery as to the purpose of the towers, and the rooms.”

Arthur was silent for a moment. Then he asked “I heard you on the phone earlier.”

Morgana’s good mood vanished, and she glowered at him. “You shouldn’t have been listening.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Arthur protested, “I just wanted to ask, is everything okay? You know, with Gwen.”

Morgana grimaced. “It will be. She doesn’t understand why I didn’t fight father more over the move. She kept asking me to move in with her family. They wouldn’t have minded, Elyan and their dad both said the same thing. But I just don’t think I could.”

“Why not?”

Suddenly Morgana looked a lot younger, almost scared. “You know that Tom barely made a living working for father, and even with both Gwen and Elyan working, the family still only just has enough. I don’t know how to work, and I know father wouldn’t support me if I went to live with Gwen, so I’d just be a drain on them. And then there’s the fact that Gwen and I, well, we love each other, but we’re so different, and the relationship is still relatively new, and we’ve been fighting more recently, and I don’t want to lose her! And now she thinks that I don’t love her because I refused to fight father and I’m too far away to go and see her and I don’t know how to make this right.” 

Morgana sat down on her bed, fresh tears beginning to fall from her eyes. Alarmed, Arthur sat down next to her and tentatively wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, shoulders shaking as she wept. 

* * * * *  


At lunch, Morgana stared at her bowl of (vegan!) soup in stony silence and Uther glowered at both of his children in equally cold silence. When Arthur attempted to slip away after eating, Uther cleared his throat and fixed him with a pointed glare. Arthur sat back down heavily with a sigh, his mood souring by the second. At last, when Arthur felt that the silence could go on no longer, Uther spoke.

“This afternoon we will go into the village and make ourselves acquainted with the services we shall be utilising while we live here. I shall expect both of you to behave yourselves and not to embarrass me or this family.” Arthur scowled. Uther was treating them as though they were five years old, not fifteen and seventeen.

“Yes, Father.” Morgana spat the word as though it were a curse.

“Yes.” Arthur muttered.

“No!” Uther roared, “You are being childish. Grow up and behave like adults.”

Morgana sat up instantly and smiled sweetly. “I’m sorry, father,” she said, her voice dripping with sugar and sarcasm, “would you like me to wear me pwettiest dwess as well? Perhaps a pink bow, and little ballet shoes? And Arthur in a widdle sailor’s suit? We’ll be on our best behaviour, we pwomise!” She batted her eyelashes at him, pouting her lips and looking as sweet as could be.

Uther’s face had been turning steadily redder throughout her tirade, and now he exploded. “Do not patronise me!” he roared, spittle flying from his lips, “I am your Father, and I will not tolerate insolence like this!”

“Fine.” Morgana said, calmly, getting up from her chair and leaving the room, head raised high and her back straight.

Arthur had watched the whole altercation in silence, equal parts impressed and bewildered by Morgana’s attempt to stand up to their father. Now, all of Uther’s rage was directed at him.

“Arthur, you will come with me to inspect the village. You will behave, you will not make me look bad. You will change your outfit to something more respectable,” Arthur looked down at what he was wearing: a clean pair of jeans and a neat, pressed shirt. He wasn’t sure how he could possibly wear something more respectable without looking like an utter prat, “and you will be obedient to me at all times. I want to hear no more of this exploring nonsense. We are not here to explore, or to have fun. We are here because this is our home, and we must always be aware of our reputation.”

“Yes, Father.” Arthur nodded, unable to say anything else.

“Now go, get out of my sight. We will leave in half an hour.”

“Yes, Father.”

* * * * *  


Arthur was wearing a tailored suit, the twin to his father’s, even down to the impeccable tie and shoes. He hated it. He secretly agreed with Morgana’s comment about a sailor suit, because that’s what he felt like. If Morgana were with them, he was sure that she would be forced to wear a silk dress to match their ties, like some kind of prom king and queen. He reached up and loosened his own tie slightly. It felt suddenly less like an expensive item of clothing, and more like a noose. Uther slapped his hand away. They were sat in the back of a limousine Uther had commissioned to take them to and from the village. The seats were leather and the windows were heavily tinted. 

“Would you like me to wait for you, sir?” the driver asked as Uther and Arthur got out in front of a bank.

“Yes, we shouldn’t be too long.” Uther said, without looking back. Arthur glanced at the driver before stepping after his father.

It had rained that morning, and the pavement was wet, with puddles everywhere. Arthur managed to avoid stepping in any puddles and getting his shoes wet, but Uther turned and scolded him for “dancing” and “making a scene”. Arthur scowled and deliberately splashed noisily through all the puddles. Uther sighed, exasperatedly, but said nothing.

All in all, they visited the village bank, the town hall (Uther wanted to get acquainted with the mayor and any council members he could find), and several cafes and other food establishments. The village was tiny, with no “proper” restaurants by Uther’s definition (i.e. no pizza option or fish and chips), so Uther didn’t manage to find an alternative source to ship food from. “I hadn’t planned on hiring any kitchen staff until we were properly settled in so we’d be able to concentrate on the vetting process”, he grumbled.

They did pass some very interesting looking shops, including one that seemed to be all about the castle, with souvenirs on a table out front. Arthur was entranced by an incredibly detailed hand made and painted model of the castle which could fit in both of his hands, but when Uther noticed him looking, he scowled. “Disgusting, how these people find a way to make a living out of other people. I’ve got my lawyers looking into whether it’s possible to trademark the castle so that all profits go to us, or at least to stop these people from making money off it.”

Arthur was speechless. The shop assistant, who happened to be passing the door at that moment froze and looked at Arthur and Uther with wide, frightened eyes. Arthur quickly hurried his footsteps to keep up with his father. After that, he kept his eyes trained on the ground and didn’t look around anymore. 

* * * * *  


When they got back to the castle it was two hours before dinner. Arthur excused himself and went straight down to the cellar. However, Merlin wasn’t there, and no matter how loud Arthur called, he didn’t reappear. Feeling disproportionately disheartened, Arthur went back upstairs.

In fact, he didn’t see Merlin again for almost a week. Uther kept him extremely busy, and Arthur was too tired at the end of each day to sneak down to the cellar, falling asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. But on Sunday Uther announced that he was making a business trip into London and would be gone for most of the day. He left a list of responsibilities for Arthur and Morgana, but both of them ignored it completely. Once Uther left, Arthur went straight to the hidden door. He scrambled down the stairs as fast as he could without falling. He was delighted to find Merlin already there when he came crashing into the cellar.

“Arthur!” Merlin beamed, “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, “my father has kept me really busy for the past week, I haven’t been able to get away.”

Merlin pouted. “You could have made time.”

Arthur laughed. “Trust me, I really couldn’t have. My father is so time efficient, he would notice if I wasn’t there for even ten minutes, and that’s the time it would take for me to get up and down the stairs.”

“Alright,” Merlin said, smiling once again. God, he was so beautiful, Arthur thought. Wait, what? “So what have you been doing, if you haven’t been coming down to see me?”

Arthur told him about how his family were organising the castle, and how he disagreed with a lot of his father’s decisions. He was sure that knocking down and building walls to create new rooms had to be illegal in an old castle like this, but Uther disagreed, saying that since he was the owner, he could decide how his own home should be managed. And so they were having one of the largest rooms, the second dining room, converted into three smaller rooms, as though they needed more bedrooms. “...honestly, it’s like he’s trying to turn it into a hotel...”

Arthur ranted to Merlin about his father’s treatment of the castle for a few minutes, Merlin looking serious, shocked, concerned, at all the right moments and nodding as Arthur brought up each new complaint. Eventually, Arthur moved on to the trip into the village earlier that week, and Uther’s outburst in front of the souvenir shop. 

Merlin gasped. “What’s the village like?”

Arthur frowned. “It’s just a village. Fairly small, only a couple of thousand inhabitants, I’d say.”

Merlin scoffed. “Fairly small? Only a couple of thousand? Only?”

“Well, yeah. That’s really small. The population of London is eight million, you know.” 

Merlin’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Anyway, haven’t you been to the village? How did you get in these tunnels? You said there was an entrance in the village, that must be where you got in.”

“Not for a long time, no.”

But surely the village couldn’t have expanded that rapidly in the past ten years or so. Most of the buildings Arthur had seen were much older, the stones worn by age and weather. If Merlin was Arthur’s age, which he looked to be – though in the poor light from Merlin’s candle lantern and Arthur’s torch light it was hard to tell – he must have last seen it at some point relatively recently. How old was Merlin? Who was he?

“What was it like then, the last time you were there? From the way you’re talking it’s almost like you expected there to still be peasants walking around and knights in armour or something!” Arthur joked.

Merlin laughed. “Yeah… that’s about right!” He mimed a sword thrust at Arthur, who leaped back, grinning.

“Dost thee seekest to best me, foul knave?” he roared with glee, “I will have thou knoweth that I have taken a great number of proficient classes in the sword arts.”

Merlin gaped at him. “What was that supposed to be?”

Arthur shrugged. “I dunno, talking like ye olde englishe I suppose.”

“You are doing it wrong.” Merlin told him, “First off all, it’s ‘dost thou’, not ‘dost thee’, and you don’t need to add ‘est’ and ‘eth’ onto everything. So really what you meant to say was ‘Dost thou seek to best me, foul knave, I will have thee know that I am greatly skilled in swordplay’, or whatever it was you were lying about.” Merlin grinned up at Arthur cheekily.

“I wasn’t lying!” Arthur protested, “I really have taken fencing classes. And boxing, and karate. My dad wanted me to be able to defend myself if I ever got kidnapped or something.”

“Prove it.” Merlin picked up two pieces of copper pipe about a metre long, handed one to Arthur and struck a defensive pose. Arthur grinned. He had loved sword fighting, both as a little kid with toy swords, and then later when he had taken classes. He was excellent at it, and he couldn’t wait to kick Merlin’s arse.

The two boys circled each other, holding their makeshift swords ready to strike. Both Merlin’s lantern and Arthur’s torch were placed on a shelf, shining eerie sidelight on both of them and casting grotesque shadows on the wall.

Arthur made the first move. He lunged at Merlin, who parried the thrust with surprising skill. He was quick to strike back, and Arthur had to think fast to defend himself. Merlin seemed to have been hiding this skill, as he seemed to be able to predict Arthur’s movements as he made them, blocking every blow and making his own in response that Arthur was only just able to prevent from hitting their mark. Merlin was quick, but Arthur was strong, and had greater stamina. Soon, Merlin was beginning to tire, and parried Arthur’s attacks slower and with less force. At last, Arthur took a swipe at Merlin when his guard was down, aiming straight for the ribs. 

Had Arthur known that Merlin wouldn’t block the attack, he would not have swung so hard. If the pipe had been a real sword he was sure it would have gone between Merlin’s ribs and sliced him clean in two, skinny as he was. The impact of the blow should have at least cracked a rib – but the pipe never made contact with Merlin at all. Instead, it passed right through him as if he were nothing but air.

Arthur’s ‘sword’ fell out of his slack fingers as he stared at Merlin in shock. The other boy retreated quickly to the other side of the room, clutching his pipe close to his chest and staring at Arthur with his eyes wide with what could only be described as abject terror.

“What the hell?” Arthur said, after a few moments of stunned silence.

“I can explain!” Merlin cried, but his eyes were darting around in panic.

“What just happened? Who are you? What are you?” Arthur’s mind was reeling, replaying what had happened over and over in his mind. There was no way Merlin had jumped over the pipe; Arthur’s swing had been way too high and Merlin had been flagging anyway. It clearly hadn’t sliced through him, he was still in one piece. And Arthur knew he hadn’t missed with his attack, they had been standing too close to one another. It had simply passed right through Merlin’s chest and out the other side as though he was just an illusion.

“My name is Merlin, Arthur, I’m your friend.” The boy pleaded.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Arthur shook his head, a disbelieving laugh leaving his lips, “That was some supernatural shit. Are you even real? Are you imaginary? Am I going insane?” A horrible thought struck him, “Are you a ghost?”

“I’m a spirit,” Merlin looked down, miserably, “I guess you could say I was a ghost, but I’m not haunting the castle or anything,” He frowned, contemplatively, “Or maybe I am… But I’m not malevolent!” He hastened to add, “I would never hurt anyone!”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this!” Arthur was suddenly furious, “I thought I was supposed to be your friend, but perhaps there’s something you didn’t know: friends are supposed to tell each other important stuff, like, oh I don’t know, that they’re a ghost.”

“Would you have really wanted to be friends if you knew I was a ghost in the first place?” Merlin asked, his voice small.

That gave Arthur pause. “No… I suppose not…” he said at last.

“Well, there you go then.” Merlin said, sadly.

“I’m not sure my position has changed now though. I don’t think I can be friends with a ghost.”

Merlin nodded, swallowing heavily but not speaking. Arthur spun round and began to climb back up the stairs, his heart still racing in his chest, mind racing, pondering Merlin’s revelation.

* * * * *  


For the next week and a half, Arthur busied himself in the castle and visiting the village, doing whatever Uther bid him and trying to avoid thinking about Merlin. It was made difficult by the fact that every time he looked at the end of his corridor, he saw the tapestry and was reminded of the boy in the cellar. When he closed his eyes, he saw Merlin’s blue eyes, his razor sharp cheekbones, his cheeky grin. It was almost ridiculous, except that it wasn’t, because Merlin was also serious, and he listened to Arthur, he helped him, he had saved his life. God, this was stupid. Yet Arthur did not return to the cellar.

At last, Uther announced that he would once again be visiting London and would be gone for most of the day. He left another list pinned to his office door, which Morgana pretended not to see. Arthur made a half hearted attempt at arranging his mother’s china collection before giving up. 

He found himself in front of the tapestry, but caught himself before pushing it aside and entering the passage. He realised that for all the times he had pushed past it, he had never taken the time to look at the tapestry itself. He took a step back in order to be able to see the entire thing.

The workmanship was incredible, he thought, his mouth dropping open slightly. It had clearly been through several restorations, but he would wager that the tapestry was very old, perhaps medieval. The artistic style cast him back to art lessons at school, where they had studied the Bayeux Tapestry and other works from that era. 

He studied the figures in the picture more closely. It seemed to depict day to day life in a village, presumably the castle itself. There was a mixture of people on it: knights, peasants, even animals, and at the top of the tapestry was a lone man, dressed in armour like the knights, but all in black, but for the red cloak over his shoulders. He appeared to have a crown on his head, though the top of the tapestry was way above Arthur’s head, and it could have simply been grey hair. 

He turned his attention to the peasants at the bottom of the tapestry. The peasants were packed closely together, along with animals such as pigs, cows and some other animals which Arthur wasn’t able to identify. However, one of the peasants stood apart from the rest of the crowd. He had been woven facing away from the viewer, as though staring at the man at the top of the tapestry, so his face wasn’t shown, but his black hair didn’t quite cover the very prominent ears. 

Arthur frowned. He wasn’t sure that those were ears, after all, the tapestry was old, and very faded in places. He scoffed. He must be imagining things anyway. Honestly, it was just like his mind to make him think of the very person he was trying to avoid.

He pushed aside the curtain and began to climb the stairs up to the tower attic again.

Everything was exactly the same as he had left it, except for the pile of bird droppings beneath one of the rafters. The offending bird – a pigeon, he thought – flew away out of one of the windows in alarm as he entered. He skirted the pile with disgust and headed instead to the stacked crates and boxes against the far wall. He wasn’t sure quite what he planned to do, but pulled down the first chest he could reach on the top. It was very old, made of oak wood with thick, yet decorative hinges. The curved top reminded him of a pirate treasure chest. 

He was stumped almost immediately by the lock. Of course, he didn’t have a key, and the keyhole was filled with rust anyway. Fortunately, the hinges were as rusty as the lock, and snapped easily, so with a little wiggling, he managed to remove the lid. Inside, he was somewhat disappointed to find, were just some folded clothes. Pulling one out and shaking it to remove the dust, he saw that it was a petticoat with laced hems and frills. If he had to guess a time period he would say Victorian or older. Inspecting the rest of the contents, he found that they were much the same, matching smocks in different sizes, from one that would probably have fit Morgana, to one clearly made for a very young child. He paused when he found that one. The child this had been made for was doubtlessly dead now, whether or not they had lived a long life. 

Hurriedly, he stuffed the clothes back into the chest and pulled down another. This was a square box made of unvarnished wood, and the lid lifted away cleanly, no locks or hinges to rust and keep it in place. This one was full of toys. Arthur lifted a stuffed rabbit and a small wooden horse carefully and examined them. The rabbit was missing one button eye, and the stitches holding one of the legs on had clearly been undone and sewed back up with large, uneven stitches, as though done by a child. The horse was beautifully carved, and painted to look as real as possible, though must of the paint was chipped or peeling. One of its ears was snapped off, but the rest of the toy was intact. 

Arthur stared at it in wonder. Whoever had made this was clearly a skilled craftsman. He wondered if it had been made specifically for the person who owned it. He hoped so, as it was clear how much work and love had gone into the making. Placing both toys almost reverently back into the box, he closed the lid and put the box aside. Perhaps he would make time to go through it once again in more detail later on. For now, he wanted to discover the contents of every box.

Several more of the boxes contained clothes. One of the boxes turned out to be a gun case with a Georgian era Brown Bess musket, complete with a bayonet. Arthur ran a hand over the smooth wooden panelling, before closing the box and putting it carefully to the side.

The next box was a smaller case, like a briefcase. Arthur opened it and a few pieces of paper flew out in the gust. He picked them up and glanced at them. They seemed to be letters. 

“Dearest Cedric … My love always, Annabelle”…

“To Mrs Elizabeth Watson … yours respectfully, Sir George Darling”…

“Mr Dalrymple-Smythe … our deepest sympathies, Horton & co.” … 

Arthur looked through the letters without reading them, looking at the names and the handwriting. Most of the letters were written by adults, but a few were written in large, shaky letters that could only have been penned by someone who was just learning to write. Beneath the letters, he found a pile of photographs. They were in black and white, and faded significantly, but Arthur could still see the faces of the people. 

The first seemed to be of the family who lived in the castle, the Dalrymple-Smythes, perhaps. There was a man in a top hat with impressive, white sideburns, a younger couple, perhaps in their forties, four sons between five and twenty, and six daughters of similar ages. 

The next photo appeared to show the servants. There were considerably more people in this image. Arthur was reminded of school photographs in which the pupils would line up on the stands in the sports hall and stare solemnly at the cameraman. 

The next few photographs were portraits of the family, each person pictured with a rather bland, forced looking smile, but for the youngest girl, who was staring instead at a toy she held in her hand. The stuffed rabbit. Arthur glanced at the toy box. He wondered who the girl was. Had she missed her toy rabbit? Or perhaps she had outgrown it and left it behind when she no longer needed it.

Then Arthur came to a photograph that made his heart seem to skip a beat. It was of one of the servants drawing wine from a large barrel in one of the cellars. However, that was not what made Arthur freeze. No, peering round from behind a different barrel, was a familiar face. Merlin. He appeared almost spectral, as though he weren’t quite there, or perhaps had vanished before the exposure on the photograph had finished. But it was unmistakably Merlin. His hair, ears, cheekbones were the same, as were the clothes he was wearing.

Quickly, Arthur scooped the rest of the letters and photographs back into the case, and, still gripping the photo of Merlin, scrambled up, out of the room and down the stairs. 

It was a long way from the top of the tower to the bottom of the cellars, but Arthur made it, fast. He was panting heavily by the time he got to the bottom, and doubled over, resting his hands on his knees. His heart and breathing were so loud he didn’t hear Merlin’s first alarmed cry. “Arthur?”

When Merlin placed a hand on his shoulder, Arthur jerked upright. “Merlin!”

“What – what are you doing here?” Merlin’s face was full of concern, “I though you wouldn’t come back.”

“Merlin, I’m so sorry!” Arthur gasped, when he could take a breath. Good god, he was unfit. “I was a royal prat.”

Merlin looked startled. “Uh, really? I mean, thanks?”

“Merlin, I have no idea what you’ve been through. But I was upstairs, and I found this,” he held up the photograph for Merlin to see. The other boy took it and stared at it in shock, “and I realised that I really don’t know what I’m talking about. Clearly, you’ve been around for a long time. This picture is over a hundred years old. And in the tapestry upstairs… How – how old are you?”

Merlin shook his head slowly. “I… I don’t know… What century is it?”

“The twenty first,” Arthur told him. What century? Not what year? “It’s 2017.”

“Then I am one thousand and five hundred years old,” Merlin told him, simply, “approximately.”

Arthur simply gaped at him. At last, he managed to force some words out. “But, I don’t understand.”

Merlin nodded, patiently, but his expression was tinged with sadness. “I died about fifteen hundred years ago, Arthur. I’ve been here ever since.”

“Why? Why did you stay? Does everyone become a spirit when they die? No, surely not, or we would know about it, there would be spirits everywhere! Why haven’t you left the cellars?”

“I was never given correct burial rites. My spirit remains tied to this place until it is allowed to pass on. Those whose bodies are correctly buried do not remain, however.”

“Why were you not buried properly?”

Merlin’s face was filled with sadness now. “I was accused of practising magic, and executed. My body was never laid to rest, and now I am trapped here, cursed to wander the tunnels under the castle for a crime I did not commit.”

“So you weren’t, you know, practising magic?”

“Oh, no, I was, but I never used magic to harm anyone, only to aid the king and his subjects,” he shook his head regretfully, “but that’s not how they saw it, of course.”

“You can use magic?” Arthur asked, sceptically. So what if he believed that Merlin was a ghost, but not that he could do magic? Sue him.

“Not anymore,” Merlin replied, “at least, not like I used to. I can do some things, though. Watch.” He pointed to a shelf in the corner, filled with ancient jars. Arthur gave a shout of alarm as one of the jars exploded, and raised his arm to shield his face as glass shards rained everywhere.

“What the hell?” He demanded when he raised his head again. He inspected his arm, but found no specks of blood or shards of glass. When he looked at Merlin, he saw the boy with his arm outstretched, concentrating hard as he kept the shards in place in the air, then gently lowered them to the ground, his arm shaking with the effort. Arthur’s angry bewilderment turned to wonder. “What the hell?”, much softer this time.

“I told you I can do magic,” Merlin said, with a slight smile, “before I died, I was much more powerful. Now, it takes so much energy to do even a small thing like levitating those pieces of glass that I never use it unless I really, really have to, but destructive magic, like shattering the jar, is much easier. I think it comes with being a spirit.”

“If I’m not buried correctly, will I become a spirit?” Arthur asked, suddenly afraid.

“That depends,” Merlin said, “I was a follower of the old religion which believes in spirits, so when I was not buried according to my religion, my spirit lingered. It is difficult to say for sure.”

Arthur nodded. “This… this is an awful lot for me to take in at once…” he said, eyeing Merlin carefully. Merlin looked downcast. “I think I need some time to process, but I will come back! I promise you that.”

Merlin looked up, suddenly hopeful. “Okay. Can I… can I ask you something, first?”

“Of course.” Arthur said, surprised.

“Can I hug you?” Arthur was speechless. Finally, he nodded and held out his arms. Merlin rushed into them, wrapping his own arms tightly around Arthur’s waist. Arthur folded his arms gently over Merlin’s thin shoulders, marvelling at how warm the boy was, and how solid and real he felt. Merlin didn’t let go, and after a few moments, Arthur felt him begin to shake with sobs. He wondered if this was the first time Merlin had been held in one and half thousand years. The idea sent a shiver down his spine, and he promised himself silently that he would not abandon this boy any time soon.

* * * * *  


From that day, Arthur made the trip down to the cellar as frequently as possible. Each time he appeared in the cellar, Merlin was there to greet him, and each time the other boy was overjoyed to see him, as though he thought that Arthur had decided to stop coming. The thought broke Arthur’s heart.

Merlin quickly became Arthur’s best friend, in a way that his friends from school, and even Elyan hadn’t been. Merlin was just easy to talk to, he listened attentively to everything that Arthur had to say, and he gave advice without judgement, about Arthur’s struggles with his father, or Morgana, or missing his other friends. 

He also had a wealth of tales of his own to tell. Arthur brought some of Morgana’s books down for Merlin to read, detailing the history of the castle, and a few books of fiction and folklore surrounding it, and Merlin would tell him which bits had been correct and which were wildly inaccurate. But his favourite things that Merlin had to tell him were the stories of his own life in the village. 

Merlin had been born after a fire had destroyed the original hall, and his father, who was one of the builders on the new wooden building, had been paralysed in an accident while transporting wooden beams. Merlin had been brought up by his mother, but he loved the stories his father would tell him of magic and sorcery, and it was this that led him to discover his own magic. His parents had instructed him to keep it a secret, but he had been discovered while placing an enchantment to protect the prince during battle, and sentenced to death. Arthur had been outraged at this. 

“That’s not fair!” he had protested, but Merlin had simply shaken his head sadly. 

“That’s just the way it is. I should have known better.”

Uther didn’t notice how Arthur kept vanishing for hours at a time (not that Arthur had been expecting him to), but Morgana began to grow suspicious. In the second week or August, there was a heat wave, but instead of joining his sister outside like he used to love doing, he disappeared inside the castle and no matter where she looked, she could not find him. At last, she confronted him about it.

“Arthur, what’s got into you lately?”

“Hm?” he looked up from the book he was reading.

“You never go outside anymore, which is not like you, normally you’re all,” she mimed a sword fight, “with your sports and all. And what’s with all the reading? I mean not that I’m complaining, I always said you should read more, but this really is not like you. Is everything okay?”

He hesitated. He really wanted to tell Morgana the truth, but Merlin’s secret was not his to give away. “I’ve met someone.” He finally settled on.

Morgana gasped, then her face split into a grin. “Really? Who? Where? Is it a girl from the village? Or someone we know? Or did you meet her online? Tell me!”

Arthur took a deep breath. “No, it’s not someone we know. He’s local.”

“Oh! Is she pretty? What’s her – wait. He?”

Morgana looked alarmed. Arthur nodded his head, looking down.

“Does Uther know?”

“Of course not. What do you think he would do?”

“He wouldn’t be happy. Probably try to keep you apart from your...” she paused, “boyfriend?”

Arthur shook his head. “No, I don’t think he’s into guys anyway. I haven’t asked, and I don’t intend to.”

“But you like him?”

Arthur nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Yeah I do.” It was the first time he had admitted it to anyone, including himself, but he knew without a doubt that he was true. He liked Merlin, a lot. Maybe more than liked.

“You should ask him! You won’t know unless you try.”

“No, he would probably be uncomfortable with it. He’s quite old fashioned.”

“Hm… alright… well then, can I meet him?”

“Maybe.”

Arthur intended to ask Merlin if Morgana could meet him, but something stopped him. Merlin was Arthur’s little secret, if Morgana knew about him that would mean that Arthur wouldn’t be alone in knowing about the boy in the cellars. Plus, there was the chance – not a big one but still a chance – that Morgana would tell Uther about Merlin, and then Arthur would never see him again. But Morgana’s advice resonated with him, and he would not stop wondering what would happen if he asked Merlin to be his boyfriend. 

* * * * *  


But then one day, Merlin asked Arthur if he could meet Morgana.

“You always talk about your sister, you seem to really care about her. Do you think...” he paused, looking hopeful, “do you think you could bring her down here sometime? I’d really love to meet her.”

Arthur was surprised. “Yeah, of course. But are you sure? I mean, no one else knows about you, and I don’t know what she would do if she found out you were, you know, a spirit.”

“I’m sure. I want to know more about her! After all, it’s not like I have many other people to talk to!”

Arthur felt a small twinge of guilt at that. He had been so caught up in wanting to keep Merlin for himself that he had never considered that the boy might actually want to meet some new people. Of course he was lonely. Being alone in the pitch black tunnels for one and a half thousand years was bound to do that.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll bring her.” Merlin beamed at that.

* * * * *  


The next day, Arthur made sure that Uther was busy in his office before pulling Morgana to the side.

“What is it?” she demanded.

“Come with me. I have something I want to show you.”

“Okay...” She looked sceptical, but followed him as he led her to the hidden door. “What, so it’s a tapestry? Yeah there’s loads all around the castle, not like I haven’t seen – ohhh...”

Arthur grinned at the expression on her face when he pushed the hidden door open. Switching on his torch, he pulled her into the stairwell and closed the door behind them. Her eyes were wide as she looked around in wonder at the stone walls and the worn stone steps. 

“How long have you known about this?”

“About a month now, but that’s not what I wanted to show you.”

“A month?” she hesitated, doing some quick mental arithmetic, “so basically, as soon as we moved in?”

“Yeah...” he grinned sheepishly, “but come on, the thing I wanted to show you is this way!”

Instead of leading her down into the cellars, he began to head up towards the tower attic. If possible, her face became even more full of wonder as she stepped into the circular room. Arthur had been in several more times, and the rest of the chests had been inspected and sorted. He had found items and clothing much older than the 19th century things he had unpacked the first time, even a suit of armour that was just a little too large for him (of course he had tried it on), and a longsword that fit his grip and balanced beautifully when he held it. 

Morgana gravitated more towards the letters and books, but gasped in delight when Arthur showed her the musket. “This could date from the American Revolution!” 

She held up some of the frocks as though trying them for size, but grimaced and swapped them for an Elizabethan brocade doublet and hose. Arthur grinned at her, happy to see her so enthusiastic about something for a change.

“Thank you for bringing me here!” she said after a while, admiring the stitching on a blackwork handkerchief.

“You’re welcome!” he replied with a smile.

“So is this where you’ve really been spending all your time?” she asked with a laugh.

“Well, some of it, yes...” he hesitated.

“And the rest of it? This mysterious boy? How have you been getting out to see him anyway? I know Uther hasn’t taken you into the village that often.”

“Come with me.” he said, decisively, “I have something else to show you.”

She carefully folded the handkerchief and closed the box before standing up and following him.

It was a long way down to the bottom cellar from the top of the tower. Arthur wasn’t sure how many steps exactly but he estimated that at an average of twenty steps per floor above ground and ten below ground, there were well over five hundred. 

“How far down are we going?” Morgana panted, just behind him.

“All the way.”

“What?” he could hear the confusion in her voice. “Why? What’s down there?”

“You’ll see.” He didn’t want to spoil her surprise, or put her off coming and make her turn back. 

At last, they stepped out onto the floor of the cellar. Arthur moved over to the lantern Merlin had left on a shelf and pulled out a box of matches he had taken to carrying for this very purpose.

“Where did that come from? Where are we?”

“This is the fourth and lowest level of the cellars. Through that doorway is a tunnel that leads to the old tin mines and a huge underground tunnel system.” Even just looking at the tunnels gave him a shiver of horror. Merlin had been showing him how to navigate his way underground, but without the other boy there to guide him, Arthur was still terrified of the seemingly endless black passageways. 

“Wow! You know, I don’t think that stairwell we came down was on the castle maps, and nor is this cellar. I only saw three levels, anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s actually why I was asking you all those questions about the castle and the maps and everything.”

“What, even on the first day here? You found this on the first day?”

Arthur nodded, though not really paying attention. Morgana was getting side tracked, this wasn’t the reason he had brought her down here. He stepped over to the yawning mouth of the tunnel.

“Merlin!”

For a moment, there was no reply, and he was just about to call again when the sound of footsteps echoed along the tunnel towards them. Arthur always thought it was peculiar how Merlin insisted on making sounds and making his body as physical as possible, when he could just appear where he wanted or fade through the walls or whatever. Merlin said it made him feel more human, and Arthur couldn’t argue with that. 

At last, a familiar head of black hair appeared round the corner, wearing a cheeky grin. “Hello, Arthur! Oh!” He saw Morgana and straightened up immediately, pushing his hair back and pulling on his jacket, acting all flustered. Arthur’s heart sank a little at the sight in spite of himself. He knew that Morgana was an attractive girl, Arthur’s friends had often told him so, and Merlin was acting exactly like they always did around her. So Merlin really was into girls, and Arthur would never have a chance.

Morgana’s eyes were narrowed and she was staring at Merlin with a slight frown. “Um, not to be rude, but who, exactly, the fuck are you?”

“I’m Merlin.” Merlin held out his hand for her to shake. She took it, still inspecting him carefully.

“Where did you come from?”

“Uh, the tunnels.”

“Do you live here?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“And are you aware that this land is owned by my father and that you are breaking the law by living here illegally?”

“Yes...”

“Good.” Morgana stepped back and looked at Arthur with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” Arthur though he might have whiplash from her rapid change from intense interrogation to nonchalance.

“I’m assuming this is the boy you’re in love with.”

Arthur widened his eyes in alarm and gave her a pointed look as if to say ‘Shut up or I’ll make you’. Then he looked, almost fearfully, at Merlin, but the other boy was regarding him with a knowing smirk. Well, that was interesting. If Arthur didn’t die of embarrassment first, perhaps he would have that conversation with Merlin later after all.

“And I’m assuming that you’re Morgana, Arthur’s sister. I’m very pleased to meet you, Arthur has told me so much about you.” Arthur was astonished. Where had this new, charming Merlin come from? The boy was all but rude and insulting whenever Arthur spoke to him!

“Really? I’ve heard almost nothing about you.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me, I actually asked Arthur not to tell anyone about me, for obvious reasons.”

“Ah, of course. Your current living situation would not go down too well with our father… Of course, I say living, but you’re not, are you?”

Instantly, Merlin dropped the charm. Arthur could see the moment when his posture went from relaxed to defensive and frightened. “What… what do you mean?”

“Well, you’re a ghost, aren’t you?”

“What makes you say that?”

“I’ve seen pictures of you all over the place. The tapestry we came through, some photographs of you in a chest in the attic, even in a painting of the village from 1778 that’s copied in one of my books. So am I mistaken?”

Merlin hesitated, then, for some reason, looked at Arthur as though seeking encouragement or permission. Arthur gave a small, reassuring smile, and Merlin nodded at Morgana.

“There we are then. Now that that’s in the open, no more lies, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, Merlin, what exactly has my brother told you about me? All nice things I hope?”

Arthur instantly regretted the decision to introduce Merlin and Morgana (though truly, he knew he was glad that Morgana shared his secret. Perhaps she would be happier now).

After some time, Morgana turned the topic of conversation onto Merlin himself. “How come you’re still around then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I thought spirits or ghosts or whatever remained behind because of unfinished business in this world, correct?”

“Well, not exactly. I wasn’t given the correct burial rites when I died, so my soul wasn’t able to pass on.”

“What are the correct burial rites?”

“For someone of my status, cremation would do, but in punishment for my crimes I was refused even that.”

“So what did happen to your body?” Morgana’s inquisitorial tone softened at this.

“Nothing. I was executed by decapitation and my head and body were left unburied and unburned, separate from one another so that I could not be given a proper burial.”

“Where is your body now?”

“It’s in a cavern in these tunnels, not too far from the castle. That is what keeps me tied to the tunnels, and to this world.”

Arthur had a sudden wave of horror so strong that he thought he was going to be sick. 

“The… I saw… Merlin!”

“Arthur? What is it?”

“The skeleton I found, in the chapel. And the skull… that’s your skeleton!”

“Perhaps…” Merlin nodded, gravely, “I cannot enter the room where my skeleton lies, or else I could give myself my own burial.”

“Merlin… I stepped through your ribcage… I crushed your vertebrae… I dropped your skull! What if that impacts your ability to go to the afterlife?”

Merlin simply shrugged. “That might have once been my body, but I don’t inhabit it anymore, it doesn’t matter what state it’s in. And I can’t go to the afterlife, there is no one to bury my body. I’m trapped here forever.”

“There’s us.” Morgana spoke up, raising her head decisively. “You said that simply burning the body would do, we can do that for you. Help you get to the afterlife. You’ve been teaching Arthur the way round these tunnels, we could go right now and do it if you wanted!”

Arthur felt immensely guilty at that moment. He had been so enjoying having Merlin’s companionship, that he hadn’t stopped to think whether or not Merlin wanted to be here. He should have offered to bury him properly ages ago, when he first found out that Merlin was a spirit.

Merlin should have been eager at Morgana’s proposition, overjoyed, even, but instead, he hesitated. “No. I don’t want you to do that. At least… Not yet.”

Morgana frowned. “Why not?”

“I don’t think I want to leave yet. I think… I think I might have found a reason to stay.” His wide, blue eyes locked with Arthur’s, and Arthur was sure that his rapid heartbeat was audible to Merlin and Morgana, as he blushed so hard he thought his face must be 100 degrees. Surely Merlin couldn’t be talking about him?

* * * * *  


Apparently, according to Morgana, he totally could. “He totally likes you back!” she crowed as she and Arthur made their way back up the stairs to Arthur’s corridor. 

“Are you sure?” Arthur asked, anxiously, “I mean, he’s pretty easygoing and likeable, so maybe he just likes me as a friend! Yeah, that’s got to be it.”

Morgana sighed, exasperated, and if she hadn’t been behind him in the dark, Arthur was sure he would have been able to see her eye-roll. “Arthur, how dense can you get? The boy is clearly half in love with you, you should take the chance! He won’t turn you down, I just know it!”

“No, I think you’re making it up.” Arthur protested, but deep down, he was thrilled, and already planning his next visit to Merlin. He would totally ask him out, but then if he said no, he wouldn’t make it weird. He wanted to keep hanging out with Merlin, so if it turned out that the other boy really was straight, he would tone it right back down so that he wouldn’t feel threatened by Arthur. 

Finally, they tumbled out from behind the tapestry, out of breath but grinning, right onto the feet of Uther Pendragon.

Arthur leapt to his feet, all traces of merriment gone from his features. “Father!”

“Arthur. Morgana. What has been going on?”

“Father, we were just examining the tapestry.” Arthur closed his eyes and said a quick prayer of thanks to whichever god was real for Morgana’s quick wit.

“No you weren’t. Tell me what you were really doing.” Uther strode past the two of them and pulled back the tapestry harshly, causing the upper section to rip away, and revealing the door behind it, which was still open wide. “What. Is this.” Uther’s voice was low and dangerously quiet.

Arthur decided to tell his father the truth, or at least part of it. “It’s a secret passageway, father. We were exploring.”

“What have I told you about exploring?”

“I know, but this wasn’t on the map, so the only way to learn about it is to explore!”

“Not on the map? What do you mean, ‘not on the map’? Do you mean to tell me that you have been exploring parts of the castle which nobody else even knows about?”

“Yes, father.” Both Arthur and Morgana’s heads were bowed now.

“Both of you, go to your rooms immediately. You are not to leave them until I have dealt with this problem and neither of you will be able to explore the uncharted parts of this castle anymore.” Uther strode away. 

Arthur stood motionless, staring at his father’s retreating figure, his body growing numb with shock. Morgana, who was less affected, surely because she hadn’t had time to become accustomed to the passageways and cellars, watched him helplessly before wrapping her arms around him tentatively. He leaned into her but didn’t reciprocate the embrace. He was too numb. Never to explore again? Never to see Merlin again?

Arthur slowly walked to his room, entered it, closed the door and sat on his bed almost mechanically. He stared at the back of the door, unmoving, until long after the light left the sky and he was sitting in darkness. At last, he fell asleep, but his dreams were filled with the boy with blue eyes and black hair, being executed again and again and again for a crime he did not commit.

The next day, when Arthur tried to leave his room to get something to eat (he hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before), he found that it was locked from the outside. His frantic beating on the door went unheard from the outside. At around noon, he heard the clumping footsteps of workmen, followed by drilling and banging, which went on for most of the afternoon. 

At last, he found that the door was unlocked at around seven in the evening, and what he saw almost made him break down in tears. The whole hallway was covered with footprints of mud and cement, and the tapestry that used to cover the door hung in tatters over the banister railing. But worst of all, where the door itself used to be cut into the bare stone wall, was an ugly expanse of grey concrete, covering half the wall around the door. 

Holding out hope that perhaps Uther hadn’t discovered the doors on each of the other floors, he hurried down to the next level, but was met with a similar sight. On each floor, he found greater despondency as every one of the doors was concreted over, and every tapestry that had hung for who knew how many years, was destroyed entirely.

* * * * *  


Arthur refused to speak to Uther for a week, Morgana following suit with only the bare minimum of words spoken to their father. Uther bore it with surprising grace, doubtlessly assured that he had been doing what was best for both of them in sealing up the doors. 

At last, as the end of the summer approached, Uther insisted that the pair break their silence. “It is almost time for you to be getting ready to go back to school. Quite frankly, I hope that the time and distance away will be enough to get you to grow up from this silly little obsession with secret tunnels. However, I must take you into the tailor’s to get you both fitted with new school clothes. Arthur, I’m sure you must have grown six inches since your last outfit was made, and Morgana, you should have a new wardrobe for school. I have made an appointment with the tailor in the next village for today. You will both come, and you will both be on your best behaviour. No more of this sulking nonsense.”

Morgana nodded curtly at him, while Arthur studied the tablecloth with a sullen expression. Uther sighed. “Say ‘Yes, father’, please.”

“Yes, father.” they both intoned dully. 

“That will have to do.”

By the time they left the castle, it was raining, which seemed to match Arthur’s mood. He sat in silence opposite Uther for the entire journey. When they arrived at the tailors, he was measured for his suit by a scared looking old man while Uther looked on ominously. Arthur said no word to his father, but spoke a little to the tailor. Morgana was measured in a similar fashion, speaking only to choose fabrics and colours.

At last, they left and returned to the car. Arthur prepared for another silent journey back to castle, but about halfway home, the driver suddenly cursed and the car shuddered to a halt. 

“Everybody get out!” The driver called in alarm. Quickly, Uther and his children scrambled out and stood at a distance from the car, watching as smoke curled from under the bonnet. “It’s not the petrol, I think it’s the oil, but it’s still best to be safe that sorry!” The driver told them with a nervous laugh.

“Well in that case can’t you just drive us the rest of the way home?” Uther demanded.

“No, it’s really better if I don’t. I can call for another car to come and pick you up if you like, but it will take a while to arrive.”

“Yes, you’d better do that then. We will walk to the village and wait in the pub I suppose.”

“Alright! I’ll wait with the car then...”

“Yes.” And with that, Uther turned and swept away down the road towards the village. Arthur debated the merits of staying with the driver and that car, but the rain was getting heavier, so in the end he followed his father, along with Morgana, into the village.

The pub was right in the centre of the village. Old fashioned lettering on the wall read ‘Ye Olde Taverne’. And it was old, too. A plaque by the door informed Arthur that the current building had been constructed in the thirteenth century, and that it had been a tavern before that as well. Arthur wondered if the original tavern had been around while Merlin had been alive, and decided to ask him, before he remembered that he would never be able to see Merlin again. He scowled at his father’s back as he followed him into the pub.

Uther ordered himself a glass of the most expensive whiskey they sold, and a glass of orange juice for each of his children. While their father was at the bar, Arthur and Morgana found a two person table and made themselves comfortable. A waitress brought over their orange juice, while Uther stalked to the back of the pub to sit and observe the rest of the customers. 

Arthur watched Morgana drink her orange juice for a minute before breaking his silence. “So… How’s Gwen?”

“She’s fine. We’ve made up, and I’ve been speaking to her a lot more this past week. She’s decided that she is going to apply for university, we’re going to apply to the same ones, so hopefully we can go together.” Morgana hesitated for a moment. “I told her about Merlin – not that she believes me – I hope you don’t mind…”

“Not at all. I suppose it’s not like anyone is going to believe me anyway, not now that I can’t prove it…” He looked down into his orange juice glumly.

Morgana laid a sympathetic hand on his arm. “I’m sure you’ll see him again, some day. When Father dies, he’s sure to leave you the castle, you can have the concrete removed and find him again!”

“Yeah but when’s that going to be? When I’m forty? Merlin will still be a fifteen year old, and who knows, he might hate me by then for not coming back.”

“Yeah, I suppose… But he won’t hate you, Arthur, I’m sure of it!”

“It’s not like I had a chance to explain myself to him, if I just turn up after thirty years, will he even recognise me?”

“Of course he will! But anyway, who’s to say that it’ll be that long to wait?”

“Are you wishing death on our father?”

“No, of course not, I’m just saying that you needn’t despair quite so much!”

“Well, thanks anyway.” Arthur pulled the straw into his mouth and drained the last of his orange juice.

Just then, a waitress leaned out of the kitchen. “Will! That tile is loose in the cellar again!”

A young man behind the bar turned with a grimace. “Can’t you just sort it yourself, Freya?”

“No, it’s shifted down and I think I can see a cave or something underneath, I can’t lift it by myself.”

Arthur sat up, all his attention suddenly focused on this conversation. Hadn’t Merlin said that there was an entrance to the tunnels in the village? What if this was it? “Let me see that!”

The man – Will – turned to look at Arthur with a small sigh. “I’m sorry, sir, but no customers are allowed in the kitchen or the cellar.”

Arthur got to his feet and pulled himself up to his full height. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“No. Should I?”

“I am Arthur Pendragon, son and heir of Sir Uther Pendragon, currently in residence at Camelot castle, and if I wish to be allowed to enter the cellar, it is more than your job’s worth to stop me.” Normally, he hated using his wealth and influence like this, but on this occasion, he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Will paled at that. “Of course, I- I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t realise – of course you can come down to the cellar, right away.”

Arthur moved towards the kitchen entrance, Morgana standing and following him, clearly having come to the same conclusion that he had.

Freya, who was waiting for Will in the cellar, was more than a little surprised when he arrived with Arthur and Morgana in tow, but when Will explained who they were, she was anxious to help them to prise the loose slab up to reveal the dark, gaping tunnel underneath. Arthur began to lower himself into it eagerly, when Will spoke up in alarm. “Uh, my lord? What are you doing?” 

“Don’t worry, I’m perfectly alright! And don’t call me ‘my lord’! Morgana, are you coming?”

Quickly, Morgana leaped down beside him, her phone already switched on as a torch. “Don’t seal us in!” she called up to Freya and Will’s anxious and bemused faces in the hole above their heads.

Morgana shone her light down the tunnel ahead of them. Arthur shuddered involuntarily as he was reminded of his misadventure down here before. “Merlin!” He called. He wasn’t sure if Merlin would be able to hear him this far from the castle, or if his presence was uniform throughout the tunnels. The idea filled him with a little dread, at the thought that Merlin’s spirit could be in the very air they were breathing. 

There was no reply, and Arthur opened his mouth to call again, with a little less hope of reply, when the sound of running feet came from the tunnel ahead of them. Arthur peered anxiously into the darkness as a familiar shape emerged, growing closer until he was knocked backwards in a forceful embrace from Merlin. Laughing slightly hysterically, Arthur hugged the boy back.

“I thought you weren’t coming back.” Merlin whispered in his ear, his voice choked with emotion.

“I know, I’m sorry, but I’m here now!” Arthur replied, feeling tears stinging the backs of his eyes.

“What kept you?” Merlin asked, letting go of Arthur and staring into his eyes with concern.

“My father found out that we had been in the tunnels and had all the entrances sealed off. I’m so sorry, but I had no way to get to you to tell you! We found this entrance while we were in the pub by chance, and I had to come down to see you again.”

Merlin nodded, but his face was full of anguish. “So is this the last time I’ll see you?”

Arthur blinked several times. “I think so. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get back in this same way again.”

Merlin let out a small noise of sorrow and wrapped his arms around Arthur again. His arms were like sticks, and Arthur could swear he could feel the other boy’s ribs through his jacket. Suddenly, he had a thought. A terrible, beautiful, heartbreaking idea. 

“Merlin, how do you get to that underground temple from here?”

Merlin took several steps away from Arthur, shaking his head in alarm. “Arthur, no. What if I never see you again?”

“Merlin, I have to try. I can’t stand the idea of you being trapped down here forever. If I can’t see you again, can you honestly say that you want to stay alone for the rest of eternity?”

Merlin hesitated, then shook his head slowly. “...no. I wouldn’t.”

Morgana spoke. “Then show us how to get to the temple.”

“Okay.” 

Morgana walked behind the two boys, still holding the torch to light their way, though Arthur knew that Merlin didn’t really need it. His hand was firmly wrapped around Merlin’s, and every so often he would give it a small squeeze, and feel Merlin squeeze back. He could feel the weight of all the words unspoken between the two of them, but couldn’t bring himself to say any of them. Instead, they walked in silence until they came to a familiar doorway. Merlin slid his hand out of Arthur’s and looked up at him with eyes wide with fear. 

“I can’t go inside.”

“I know.”

“Thank you, Arthur.”

Arthur said nothing, but pulled Merlin into a tight embrace, cradling the back of his head against his shoulder. He felt Merlin take a deep, shaky breath, before pulled away, and Arthur stepped into the chamber. 

Morgana followed him, shining her torch around until alighting upon the skeleton lying in the corner. Arthur moved to where he had dropped the skull – Merlin’s skull – and picked it up, almost reverently, placing it by the shoulders of the rest of the skeleton. He pulled out the box of matches he still carried with him, his fingers shaking as he moved to strike one. 

“Wait!” called Morgana. The match snapped against the side of the box. Arthur looked at her with a question on his face, and she quickly bent down and picked up a linen sheet that was lying on the floor, laying it carefully over the skeleton. “He should burn better. Do it now.”

Arthur opened the matchbox and pulled out another. Striking it properly despite his trembling hands, he placed the burning stick onto the sheet, right over the spot where Merlin’s heart would have been. For a moment, it looked like it was going to burn out before it could take hold, but suddenly the sheet caught fire and began to burn. Arthur watched as the flames spread over the sheet, gradually engulfing the entire skeleton. 

Suddenly, there was an anguished scream from outside the cavern. Arthur and Morgana rushed out to see Merlin standing with his arms out to the sides, his head thrown back and his face full of agony. Ghostly blue flames flickered over his body. Arthur instinctively moved forward to help him, but Morgana threw her arm out to stop him.

“No. Leave him.”

“But he’s hurting!”

“There’s nothing you can do for him.”

As they watched, Merlin’s body began to glow, not from the flames, but from the inside, as though he were made of fire himself. He was still screaming, but it sounded more distant, as though it was echoing from a long way down the tunnels. As Arthur watched, Merlin began to dissolve, his glow expanding and brightening until he was almost painful to look at. Then, suddenly, he was gone, and Arthur found himself blinking the memory of light from his eyes as the tears he had been holding back for so long began to fall.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring at the place where Merlin had been, until Morgana spoke softly behind him. “We need to go, Arthur.”

He turned and looked at her, tears still rolling down his cheeks. “How?”

“Don’t worry, I think I can remember the way back.”

He nodded and trailed after Morgana as she led him back the way they’d come towards the village.

* * * * *  


Arthur was miserable for the rest of the last week of the holidays. Morgana tried to comfort him, but he pushed her away, locking himself in his room during the day and emerging for food only after Uther and Morgana had gone to bed. Uther made no effort to find out why Arthur was behaving in this way, and gave up on trying to get him to leave his room after the third day.

Not even the prospect of seeing his friends again would cheer Arthur up. He had missed them of course, but as he sat on the train to Eton college, he couldn’t bring himself to be excited to see them. His mind was on Merlin, as it had been ever since he first set eyes on the boy, if he was being honest with himself. He wasn’t sure that he would ever be able to make himself forget those blue eyes, those cheekbones or that dimpled smile.

“Arthur!” He looked up just in time to see his friends Gwaine, Leon, Percy and Lance pile into his carriage, Gwaine seating himself daintily in Arthur’s lap.

“Hey, guys.” Arthur tried for a smile, but he couldn’t quite make it seem genuine.

“We didn’t see you at the station, you must have boarded early!” Percy said with a grin. He had clearly been busy over the summer: his skin was suntanned and his muscles were bulging through the sleeves of his shirt. 

“Yeah, just wanted to get away from everyone.”

Lance frowned. “You alright, mate?” Although he was originally from Venezuela, he had grown up in Islington, and was studying at Eton thanks to the bursary scheme. This had originally set him apart from the other boys, as a member of the lower class, but his kindhearted, honest nature had quickly endeared him to Arthur and his friends.

Arthur sighed. “Yeah I’m fine. Just had a difficult summer.”

Gwaine, seemingly picking up that Arthur didn’t want to talk about it, immediately launched into tales of how many hot girls he had picked up on holiday in Greece. Arthur was grateful for the distraction, and, only half listening, turned to watch the Berkshire countryside streak past the window.

Arthur took his time unpacking, but at last, he could no longer pretend that he had any business remaining in his room. The rest of his friends had agreed to meet at the cricket pitch to enjoy the last hours of sun with some of Gwaine’s smuggled vodka. They were surely there already, waiting for him, so Arthur forced himself to leave his room. As he made his way through the school grounds, he was greeted by several students, to which he responded with half-hearted replies, and adopted a surly expression in the hopes that he would not be bothered by anyone else.

At last, the cricket field came into view. There were several students already there, some playing cricket in the warm sunshine, other standing in groups or lying on the grass. Arthur spotted Gwaine waving to him from the other side of the pitch and began to head over, when someone cried “look out!” and a cricket ball hit him on the temple. Arthur fell backwards in surprise, sprawling on the grass. Several boys jogged over, reaching for the ball and calling apologies to him. A hand reached for his and he took it, pulling himself up to a sitting position until he could see the owner of the hand.

His eyes met two piercing blue ones. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat as his heart simultaneously seemed to stop and to speed up to one thousand beats per minute. 

“Arthur, are you alright?”

Arthur reached out and pulled Merlin’s head down to his and kissed him.

Merlin froze, his eyes widening and his body stiffening, but then he melted into the kiss. Arthur felt Merlin’s hands in his hair as the other boy kissed him back just as urgently as Arthur was kissing him. 

At last, they broke apart for air. Arthur was sure that the rest of the boys around them must be staring in shock, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Wow.” Merlin looked like he could burst from happiness.

“Merlin… What are you doing here? How are you here?”

“Arthur, when you burned my body, you released me from my entrapment in the tunnels. I could have chosen to go to the afterlife, and I almost did, but I realised that I didn’t want to. All that waits for me there are people and memories that are over a thousand years old. They can wait. But I want to stay with you. So I came back. You freed me, but I don’t want to be free from you, Arthur.”

“I don’t want you to go.” Arthur was breathless, still barely able to believe that Merlin was really here, really in front of him.

“Then don’t let me go.” Merlin took Arthur’s hand with a smile, and helped him to his feet. Arthur tore his eyes away from Merlin to look across the field to where his friends sat. Gwaine had stopped waving and was staring at Arthur in shock, but as Arthur watched, a huge, devilish grin spread across his face.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to my friends.” Arthur set off towards Gwaine – who was now whooping and pointing to Arthur with glee – Merlin in tow, and decided that maybe everything was going to be alright.


End file.
